Between the Stars
by reen212000
Summary: A tag for First Strike. Rodney gets concerned.


So I was minding my own business when this one came out of the blue. A tag for First Strike. Not my best, but I needed something to get back in the swing of things. An exercise, if you will.

Is he trying to drive me crazy? The last time I saw John Sheppard, he was wandering the halls like ghost. You know, white as a sheet, dark circles for eyes, unintelligible speech, disappears on a whim. _Ghost. _

A few days ago, the city of Atlantis ended up in a dark expanse, floating aimlessly with no point of reference. Nary a star to guide our wee boat, as Carson would say.

Yes. Well. Carson...

"Doctor McKay? This is Doctor Jenkins."

_Jenkins?_ I can't help but to sift through my memory. For some reason, I thought she had gone back to Earth. "This is Doctor McKay."

"Sorry to disturb you, but I have found Colonel Sheppard."

"Well? Quit stalling! Tell me!"

I hear her gulp on the other end. "Of course. He's in the chair room."

"What! I was just– Never mind. Thank you. I'll be right there." How could I have missed him? There's no transporter between there and where I had been so... You know what? Forget it. I still can't figure out why things happen around Sheppard as it is, let alone understanding how this city defies physics. Sheppard probably found some back door or secret passage from the infirmary to the chair room.

When I got there, I saw something I never contemplated seeing. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard shaking. Like a leaf. Jenkins looked like she was going to cry, her wide grey eyes darting back and forth between him and me. Does she think I blame her for what this idiot is doing? Wait. I wonder what kind of expression I have on my face.

She's trying to coax him out of the chair, which is so not working. Sheppard had that sneer of determination on his face, the one he gets when he's beyond hurting, and beyond exhaustion.

"Please, Colonel. You have to eat and rest. This won't–"

"Can't. Gotta find a way out," he says. Or rather slurs.

Did he not eat that candy bar I gave him? What about the water? Wait. Was that today, or yesterday? Rubbing my burning eyes, I take a deep breath. "She's right you know." The petite redhead jumped; did she think I was going to stay quiet? "So why don't you be a good little colonel, and get out of my chair."

Those usually unreadable hazel eyes focused on me, causing the overhead display to wink off. "Your chair?" It powered off immediately. _Works every time._ "McKay, I'm trying to find–"

"Yesyesyes, Colonel. A way to safety. Somewhere to land. Get your people home." I came to stand directly in front of Sheppard, since it looked like his act of defiance was taking more energy than he had to generate. And then I told him so.

"Rodney, if I can't–" Suddenly, he closed his eyes and shuddered. In the weak light of the room, he was so pale. Beads of sweat appeared at his hairline, and he nearly melted out of the chair.

Jenkins and I caught him as he slid out, placing him on the floor. Glancing over my perennial charge, I noticed other things I had missed the last time I saw Sheppard. His long-sleeved black shirt was nearly soaked, probably from a fever that was worse than I thought. However, his hands were ice cold. That has something to do with blood pressure, right? I don't know. Not a medical doctor! Left my bone rattle in my other pants.

While holding the colonel's heavy head, I saw Jenkins flee the room. I may have snapped at her; not sure. She reappeared with bottles of water and a pocketful of power bars, handing me one of each with shaking hands. I murmured my thanks, and I think she may have stopped breathing. "Jenkins. Breathe."

"Quit terrorizing the help, Rodney," Sheppard whispers from below. "How'd I get here?" Whimpering, he closes his eyes suddenly and the lights begin flickering. I have never heard John whimper outside of the infirmary, so I'm guessing he must have the world's largest headache.

Settling down next to him, I place his head in my lap. (Get your mind out of the gutter! Seriously. Yes, I've heard the rumors...) I steady John's hand as I help him greedily drink water. "Slow down! You'll choke, and then I'll have to take even more care of you, so stop it." Great. Now I'm scolding him. He bats my hand away as I proffer a power bar.

"Shall I call Doctor Keller?" She was trying to be helpful. Really.

"_No!"_ we both yelled; Jenkins' eyes narrowed. "She's still in surgery anyway," I continued. Glancing down at Sheppard, I see he's frowning at the flickering lights. Realization dawned as he struggled to rise. I had been waiting for the inevitable call from, oh I don't know, everyone, asking me to fix it. However, none called. Maybe no one noticed, or maybe it's just this section.

"I need to get back in the chair," he says weakly.

"Now, see? Here I thought you were going to be sensible, and go to bed." I push him up off my lap, and stand. "Are you insane? You can barely form whole sentences, let alone fly."

He gives me that glare. Whatever. Not afraid of him today; he can't even focus on my face.

"Well it's a good thing I don't need to _talk_ to Atlantis! Jealous, much?"

"What?" I can feel a sputter coming on, so I try to dampen my anger. "You can't keep your eyes open for more than five minutes, and suddenly you're a chair enthusiast? I know you think everyone needs you, including Atlantis. But not if you're half-dead."

"Thanks for your concern, Rodney, but I'm fine." Does he think I actually _believe_ him? Exasperation crosses his features, and not for the first time. Then his expression cleared, becoming that infamous nonchalant mask. He was switching tactics. "I just need a few minutes. Promise."

Wait for it.

_Ah! There it is._ The Smile. The one he uses when he really, really wants something. However, exhaustion and fever have robbed his boyish face of mischief. Now, he just looks as crazy as I perceive him to be. Acquiescing to his whim, I helped John stand, and guided him to the chair. Jenkins has scurried off to God knows where, and naturally when I could use her help.

He sank into the chair, and ostensibly The City, seeking a way home. The HUD came up obediently, showing Atlantis' present position. Yep, still caught between the stars, and an hour later, nowhere near a planet – hell, an asteroid. The display winked off, and the chair slowly powered down. Glancing up from my laptop, I saw Sheppard try to rise. He drew a shaky breath, and looked at me, a hint of panic shining in his bloodshot eyes. "R'ney... I..."

_That's it._ He is leaving this room. Right now.

Shoving my work aside – What? I know my priorities! Okay, okay. Sometimes. _Whatever_. Point is, my closest friend needed my help. Taking him by the shoulders, I pulled him out of the chair. Sheppard's body is way too light, way too frail under his clothes. A flash of anger makes me hesitate; I feel the colonel steady himself as I pause. Guiding him out of the room, I hold on tight.

John's glassy, fevered gaze stared straight ahead, looking lost and tired and sad. I'm fairly sure Atlantis is giving him status reports. And it's killing him. Everyone knows it's not his fault, and I know he knows. But I understand. Responsibility, and all that.

"Where're we goin'?" John asked, his voice a raspy whisper. He looked around him again, lost expression never leaving. The damage sustained by the beam was being slowly repaired, but power was waning. John could feel it – I could see it in his eyes. His knees buckled, and I kept him upright, trying not to call attention to ourselves. I picked up the pace.

"We're almost to your quarters, okay?" With both my arms around John, his right shoulder leaning heavily into my chest, I propel us forward, daring anyone to stop us. His thinner body was faltering, and it was my mission to get him to bed. (Mind. Gutter. Please.) Once he was settled, I could check on Elizabeth, and eventually bring Keller.

The doors opened as we arrived; the room prepared to receive a sick and weary individual. Apparently, The City had the same idea for its golden boy. "You need to sleep, Sheppard." He struggled feebly against me, mumbling about protecting everyone. Walking cliche. "I realize that, but you can't do it if you're dead. Now, sit."

I strip off his damp jacket, and try to ignore how his form-fitting long-sleeved shirt now hangs loosely around him. When had this happened? I find myself trying to remember what he looked like a week ago, two weeks ago. My lab. That's all I remember. _Dammit._ I feel a pang of – something. I want to be angry. I want to be worried. I even want to be scared. Everything rushes over me at once, and I look away, searching the dimly lit room for dry clothes.

"Ro'ney?" John slurs. Again with the slurring? "Wha' happened to yer face? Y'kay?" His half-closed eyes are searching my face, hands barely touching my face.

"I'm fine. They're just scratches." Digging around in my pockets I fish out a chocolate bar, surprised that it's not as gooey as I thought. "Here. Eat this."

Finally, John gives a lopsided grin, or at least the shadow of one. "Thanks," he says, looking less like an overburdened soldier, and more like a kid. I drift off to the bathroom, slowly filling a glass with water, hoping that when I return, John will have changed into the clothes I collected for him. Thankfully, he's done just that, and curled up on his bed.

Pulling his covers over him, I coax him to drink water and take a Tylenol. John doesn't feel as warm as he did earlier, and I'm hoping he will finally sleep. Mostly so I can get some sleep, but that's beside the point. Listening to his lengthening breaths, I decide on my next move. Definitely check on Elizabeth, get my laptop. Maybe check on my staff, repairs, whatnot. After all, the leaders of this expedition are incapacitated for now, so the responsibility is mine.

Looking back on the sleeping form, I dodge out of the room, heading back to my lab. The lights have stopped flickering, but now I'm worried about – well, everything.

"Sheppard t' M'Kay."

What the – "Why are you awake? I'm very busy. What do you want?"

John snorts on the other end, mumbling about how much noise I make. "Be nice, Rodney." There's a pause, and I imagine him sitting up in bed, trying to sound more authoritative. "Wake me up in an hour. And don't... don't be so hard on everyone right now, 'kay?"

I roll my eyes, and can't help smiling. "I'm not a complete moron, Sheppard. Yes, yes, whatever. Leave Atlantis to me."

"That's what I'm afraid of. One hour, McKay."

_Please._ Like I ever listen to him.

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The End.

That was just begging to get out. I thought maybe I would do a couple POVs, but I dunno. Perhaps next week. I really, really need to finish the ThoughtCrimes story. Jeez.


End file.
